Lost in the Countryside
by xXFanGirl23Xx
Summary: When Sherlock forgets to fuel up before a trip out of town, he and John get stuck in the midst of a blizzard in a small abandoned cottage, only to find a whole new light shed on their relationship.


"Sherlock, are you sure it's the engine and _not_ the fact that we didn't fuel up before leaving?" John asked as the two men trudged through the snow that had started falling. Sherlock huffed, turning his coat collar up against the wind. John sighed, shivering as the wind chill continued to drop, and still they trudged onward.

It was a good twenty minutes before John spoke again. By now, his teeth chattered from the cold and his face was red and half froze.

"S-S-Sherlock… I-It's f-freezing…" John finally managed to stutter out. Sherlock turned to look at John, his hands reaching up to undo his scarf. Quickly, he wrapped the scarf around John's neck, tying it tight, and tightened the strings on his parka.

"Better?" Sherlock asked, getting worried about his friend. John nodded slightly before huddling down into the scarf to get warm. John was glad that his face was already red from the cold because the scent from the scarf was so very strong and made him blush. He had only dreamed of being so close to Sherlock, and if he was to die from freezing in the cold, he knew he'd die happy.

After what seemed an eternity, Sherlock led John up a small narrow path and straight to an old wooden door that belonged to a small abandoned cottage. He pushed the door open and gently nudged John inside, not coming in himself. John quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, pulling it out to light up the one room cottage. The room itself was small, with a little range for cooking in the corner. A small table sat off to the left side of him, with two chairs on either side. A fireplace stood in the center of the room, along with a few small pieces of firewood that were directly beside it. A single bed was in the far corner closest to the fireplace.

"Where are we?" John asked as Sherlock came inside with his arms full of firewood. He watched in amazement as Sherlock built up a small fire in no time flat. The cottage soon began to warm up nicely, and after getting tired of standing, John decided to sit beside Sherlock on the floor next to the fire.

"There's no service here." Sherlock stated dully, looking at his phone. John sighed. They really were stranded, and lost, and it was snowing, which didn't help their case, and Mycroft would never find them. There was a long night ahead of them, of that they both were certain. John laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"I'll sleep on the floor." John said nonchalantly. Sherlock looked over at John with surprise written across his features. "Seeing as there's only one bed, it makes sense." John continued.

"If anyone is sleeping anywhere, you'll sleep in the bed. I don't usually sleep anyways." Sherlock argued. John felt a smirk play on his lips as he looked at Sherlock. The smirk faded when his eyes took notice of just how tired Sherlock looked. He hadn't slept recently, above all, worried John.

"Sherlock, so help me God if you don't sleep tonight, I will make sure to give you a hard enough punch that'll knock you out for a good hour." John threatened lightly. Sherlock smiled at him with a chuckle escaping his lips. John chuckled too. It was amusing but true.

In the sudden heat of the moment, John leaned over and kissed Sherlock's lips gently for the very first time. Sherlock pulled away, flushing a vibrant red, and try as he may, came up at a loss of words. John quickly got up and went outside, gathering more firewood.

The snow had deepened slightly since the two of them had made their way up to the cottage in the start of a blizzard. The firewood seemed a great distance away from the cottage, but the walk did John good because it allowed him to clear his mind.

The kiss was unexpected. Even he had no idea what had happened. He never truly felt anything of a romantic emotion towards Sherlock, so what brought it on all of a sudden? It didn't seem like a good idea to dwell on that fact, but no matter how hard he tried, John couldn't get the feel of Sherlock's gentle pink lips touching his out of his mind. It hadn't been like kissing Sarah, or Janette, or any of his past girlfriends. It was all new, and it was dangerous.

One thing John had learned was that Sherlock Holmes never liked sentiment. Love was a dangerous disadvantage in his mind. And maybe it was true, but even so, nothing would keep John from trying to kiss Sherlock again. There would be moments when it would be perfect, and he was going to take it from now onward. John smiled inwardly as he gathered up as much firewood as he could carry. He was going to get Sherlock's heart, no matter how hard the task may be.

When he returned, Sherlock was still sitting on the floor in the same place he was when John left. After tending the fire and stacking the majority of the newly brought in firewood beside the fireplace, John sat beside him once again.

"I should apologize, Sherlock. Honestly, I have no idea where that came from." John said, hoping his apology would be accepted. Sherlock's face changed slightly, into an expression John usually saw when Sherlock had a new idea for an experiment. _Oh good god, what is it this time?_ John thought as Sherlock suddenly leaned in closer, closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together for a second time.

John didn't know what to expect, but now that Sherlock had thrown down the challenge, he sure as hell wasn't going to give up. His hands immediately flew up into the dark curls, his lips curling around Sherlock's as he took over. The kiss wasn't soft and brief like the first, but fiery and passionate and overwhelmingly blissful. Nothing could compare to the feel of Sherlock's lips against his.

John only pulled away when the need for oxygen was too strong. Both men sat there panting and smiling at each other like schoolboys. Their pupils were dilated, and pulses were rushing faster now as John once again pulled Sherlock in for a third kiss.

This kiss was more like the second. His tongue brushed against Sherlock's lower lip, and quickly slid into his mouth when he opened it, letting out a soft moan. John took no time in waiting as he explored the mouth of the wonderful, and oh so arrogant, man that was Sherlock. Sherlock's hands quickly pushed John's jacket off of his shoulders, one hand quickly pressing against the back of his head and pulling him closer.

John deepened the kiss further; working Sherlock out of his coat as he almost crawled into the detective's lap, wanting to be as close as physically possible. It wasn't as hard as he thought as he quickly started popping button after button open on Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock's bare chest was something he could have only imagined. The scrawny detective was built. His muscles were well toned, and despite his being so impossibly pale, he was actually all too handsome for someone who never cared about appearances.

He hadn't noticed, but now he was starting to make sense of it all. Sherlock was here, shirt completely open, kissing him as those skinny slick fingers worked their way under his jumper, running up and down his bare torso, and John was finally realizing the one thing he'd missed that every other person on the face of the earth had noticed. Sherlock loved him. And not only loved him, he wanted him; badly.

It had been only a matter of seconds that Sherlock's lips left John's as he pulled the jumper over John's head. John stood, pulling Sherlock to the bed with him. It could have been better if the two of them had a warmer, better place to find out they were in love, but the chill of the evening and the snow blowing about outside made the heat of the moment just that. As Sherlock lay over John, their body heat kept them warmer than the fire.

The gentle glow of the light on Sherlock's features made him entirely a different looking man. His cheekbones stood out the most; sharp and extremely gorgeous. His eyes had a piercing hue, as today they were emerald green. The shadows on the side of his face showed the darkness that lay within him, but the places where the light touched his skin added a soft, gentle hue to his pale skin.

The man was a dream walking in the midst of reality. There was something about the way that Sherlock had always been an outsider and was hardly understood that had first attracted him. His dark curls and ever-changing eyes had made him even more of a wonder in John's mind. The fact that this man was by far the most observant man in the world and loved to do extremely odd things surprisingly appealed to him more than it normally would with anyone else.

"John, you're staring."


End file.
